Clara Black and the Hidden Chamber

Toxic Valentine

Hermione stayed in the hospital wing for many weeks. There were many rumors about her disappearance when the rest of the school returned after Christmas, because everyone thought she'd been attacked. So many students filed past the hospital wing trying to see her that Madam Pomfrey brought out her curtains again to spare Hermione the embarrassment.

Harry, Ron, and I went to visit her every evening. When the new term started back up, we brought her each day's homework. 

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening. 

"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. She was happier due to the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were slowly turning back to brown. "I don't suppose you have any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.

"Nothing." Harry said gloomily.

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for the millionth time.

"We know, Ron. Hermione, Emma said to give this to you." I say. Emma had made Hermione a get well card and given her a copy of her Muggle book, The Tale of Despereaux. "She thought you might get bored."

"Tell her thanks for me." Hermione said gratefully.

"What's that?" Harry asked, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but Ron was too quick for her.  He pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:

"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and Five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."

Ron looked up at Hermione, disgusted. 

"You sleep with this under your pillow?" 

But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine. 

"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to Harry and I as we left the hospital wing and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given us a mountain of homework to complete by next lesson. Ron was just saying he wished he had asked Hermione how many rat tails you were supposed to add to a Hair Raising Potion (1) when an angry outburst from the floor above reached our ears. 

"Filch," I muttered as we hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard. 

"You don't think someone else's been attacked?" said Ron tensely.

We stood still, heads inclined toward Filch's voice, which was quite hysterical.

"-even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore-"

His footsteps receded along the invisible corridor and a distant door slammed. We poke our heads around the corner. Filch had been manning his usual lookout post. Why do we keep coming back to the place where Mrs. Norris was was attacked? A great flood of water stretched halfway down the corridor, and appeared to still be coming from under Myrtle's bathroom door. What has her in a mood? Now that Filch wasn't shouting, you could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

"Now what's up with her?" Ron asked.

"Let's go and see," said Harry. 

"Do we have to?" I whine, but held my robes up over my ankles and stepped through the great amount of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it as always, and entered.